


Rumor Has It

by MissMorwen



Series: BuckyNat Prompts [29]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, F/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, POV Natasha Romanov, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Shameless Smut, Tabloids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 05:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28612998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMorwen/pseuds/MissMorwen
Summary: Natasha couldn’tnotbuy the magazine when she saw it. It simply wasn’t an option. The headline stopped her dead in her tracks.Black Widow’s Shocking Affair with Teacher!it read under a picture of Natasha. In a smaller font underneath the headline, it said:Late-night romp, boozing & how they trashed a hotel suite!*************Natasha and Bucky have only told a select few that they are in a relationship and living together. The privacy is great, but the rumors? Well, some are entertaining, some are baffling, and one might hit a bit too close to home for comfort.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Natasha Romanov
Series: BuckyNat Prompts [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/438178
Comments: 20
Kudos: 89
Collections: BuckyNat Secret Santa 2020





	Rumor Has It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MedeaV](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedeaV/gifts).



> The headlines in this fic have been taken from actual tabloids. I googled some for inspiration and when I found the one about late-night romp in a hotel suite with a teacher, I knew I had to use it ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Natasha was three weeks into what was supposed to be a two-week job when her phone pinged. She was making dinner–if pouring leftover Pad Thai into a bowl and reheating it in the microwave could be called making dinner. Certain people she knew might disagree, one of them might even vehemently disagree.

After setting the bowl in the microwave and hitting the ‘reheat’ setting, she picked up her phone to check the message. It was from James and it contained a picture of the front page of some tabloid with a close-up of her face. Across the image was written: _Black Widow: Pregnant & Betrayed!_ In a large font. Underneath it, bullet points claimed: _Two months after getting married, reports claim king T’Challa is having multiple affairs. Widow “absolutely humiliated.” Plus: One of the women says she’s pregnant!_

It would be funny if it wasn’t so baffling.

Instead of texting James back, she called him, tucking the phone between her ear and her shoulder while she cleared away empty take-out boxes. They hadn’t talked since she left for the mission and to be honest, she missed the sound of his voice.

He answered the phone on the first ring, greeting her with, “Is there something you wanna tell me?”

She stifled a snicker. “Not unless you promise me you didn’t buy that trash magazine.”

“Didn’t have to. I have a subscription. Don’t wanna miss reading about all the good stuff.”

“Liar.”

He hummed noncommittally.

That made her laugh.

“Weren’t you supposed to come back this week?” James asked.

The microwave beeped, and she took out the steaming bowl, nearly burning her fingers on it. “Yeah,” she said. “About that.” Stirring the steaming food, she blew on it and pushed the bowl along the counter to the end where two bar stools were tucked under it.

“No. Oh, no. Say it ain’t so, baby doll.”

Her laughter sent the steam spiraling away from the bowl. “You definitely need to work again. I can’t be your hobby.” Perching on one of the bar stools, Natasha blew on her food, waiting for it to cool.

James’ sigh was deep and heartfelt. “Tell me about it. No, wait. Tell Hill about it so she can clear me to work missions.”

“I have. Several times. She says it’s not up to her. Fury isn’t cooperating either.” The food had cooled enough for her to risk tasting it, and she caught a shrimp with her chopsticks and bit carefully into it. It tasted as good as it had last night.

“You eating?”

“M-hm,” she said around a mouthful of noodles.

“What are you having?”

She paused deliberately, chewing and swallowing. “A delicious home-cooked meal, of course.”

“Heathen,” James muttered. “I’m making roasted lamb when you come home.” Then he added, almost as an afterthought, “If you ever come home.”

“I miss your food,” she admitted.

“I miss eating you out. It’s been weeks since you sat on my face.”

The directness of his words made Natasha smile. He had never been one to hide his feelings for her when they were alone but asking for things was something he had only picked up when he got his name back. It was a pleasant change. “It has.”

“We should change that when you’re back home.”

“Is that a promise?”

“You bet it is.”

***

Closing the door behind her, Natasha called out, “Honey, I’m home.” She shrugged out of her jacket and set her boots next to James’. It still made her head spin a little. The two of them living together. Him there for her when she got home, him in the bed next to her when she woke up. And there wasn’t a damned thing anyone could do to tear them apart again. No one had that power over them anymore.

Something clanged in the kitchen, then James stepped out wearing a bright red, white, and blue apron. Ridiculous and amazing. The very image of blissful domestic life if you ignored the fact that he was brandishing a large chef’s knife and wearing black latex gloves. Without the Captain America apron, he might have looked less friendly and more murder-y.

“You made it.” His grin was wide and pleased.

Meeting him halfway, she stretched to drape her arms over his shoulders and relished in the feeling of his arms around her. Home at last. “I had to threaten two agents and pay the taxi driver extra to make sure I got home as soon as possible,” said Natasha and nudged his nose with hers.

He chuckled. “All’s fair in love or war.” He tilted his head and kissed her, slow and deep. His lips slick against hers, the stubble on his chin scratching her skin.

Tension from hours and hours of debriefing drained from her and she sighed, wrapping her arms more firmly around his neck. He was solid and warm where they touched, grounding her, and she kissed him back until they both were out of breath.

His lips were red when she pulled back. They had curled into a smile so sweet she had to stretch and kiss him again, quick and with closed lips this time.

“So, how does it feel to be forced to have to hide your true love from the world?” Natasha asked, untangling herself, mindful of the chef’s knife James still held behind her back.

He blinked down at her. “Um.” He licked his lips, his brow creasing. “Did you—I thought you preferred it like this. Us.” He gestured between them with his free hand. “Keeping it a secret.”

It would be cruel to keep torturing him. “Oh, I don’t mean us. Your one true love. A positively heart-wrenching love story for the ages.” An upbeat voice echoed Natasha’s words in the back of her head. It took all her willpower to keep herself from smiling at the recollection.

Confusion melted away. He shook his head at her in mock-disbelief. “Darling. Sweetheart, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“You know the new girl at the reception at the Tower? Curly, blond hair, round glasses?”

James nodded.

“She’s convinced that you and Steve are being forced to hide your torrid love affair.”

Sighing, he turned away from her to return to the kitchen. “Who even talks like that. And what does that make Sam? The third wheel? The jilted husband?”

“I’m not sure she even knows he exists.” She followed him, fitting her arms around his waist as he began chopping vegetables, and leaned her head against his broad back. His breathing was deep and slow, the beat of his heart steady.

“Because him and Steve are always so careful to hide their relationship.” He shook his head and continued chopping. “Wait. You paid your taxi driver extra to get here fast, but you had time to chat with the receptionist first?”

“You should have seen her. She was dying to tell someone. I was practically doing you a favor.”

“Right. Glad to know I’m less important to you than the latest gossip.”

“I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“And are you gonna help me with dinner or are you gonna stand there all evening?”

“I like standing here.” Natasha tightened her grip on his waist to emphasize her words. She was only half-joking. The warmth from James’ body seeped through their clothes and into her. She could smell the laundry detergent he always bought and a whiff of cigarette smoke. Faint, though, as he insisted on only smoking out a window or standing on the tiny balcony. He smelled like home.

His huff of laughter was a rumble in his chest before the warm air brushed over her hands. “Baby doll, have you considered turning down an assignment every once in a while?”

Now there was a thought. She sighed. “And then who would pick up the slack? Not you while you’re still not cleared for work. Not Clint while he’s on leave for the first time in forever. And I’m not sure who else could do the work we do and not screw it up or become screwed up by it.”

The chef’s knife made a small sound when James laid it down on the chopping board. Then he turned, careful not to elbow her in the face when she refused to relinquish her hold on him. “Then tell me what I can do to help you in the meantime?”

“I like what you’ve been doing so far. Not having to deal with the laundry and all that after saving the world for the umpteenth time has been great.” Natasha smiled up at him. “A kiss would be nice?”

He traced the line of her jaw with a knuckle, calloused and warm against her skin. “As you wish.” Nudging her head up, he bent down to kiss her, softer than before, but no less deep. Drawing her closer to him with an arm around her shoulders as the other hand moved to cup the back of her head.

His front was covered by the Captain America apron, but his back was only covered by a worn tee and she splayed her hands across it, feeling the shift of muscles as his breathing sped up. Not that she was doing any better. She changed her angle of approach, dragged her teeth over that ridiculous jaw of his, nipping at skin covered by stubble until she got to the smooth skin under his ear. Laughing soundlessly when James shivered against her.

“I missed you,” Natasha confessed into the crook of his neck. The skin was so soft there. Ticklish, too. She kissed it to feel him shiver again.

“More than my cooking?”

“More than anything,” she answered honestly.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, then his chin bumped into the top of her head as he lowered his. “Natalia.” His voice was barely audible and filled with bottomless hunger. “Dinner’s gonna be late if you keep this up.”

She pulled back far enough to see him. A warm jolt coursing through her at the sight of his blown pupils with thin circles of blue surrounding them, the hunger in them. Her fingers found their way up under the hem of his shirt to his bare skin underneath it almost of their will. “Then let it.”

A pink tongue darted out to wet his lips. Then James shifted his hands to her hips, lifting her off the floor and turning them around in one movement.

Something fell off the cutting board and bounced on the floor when he shoved the board away. Then his mouth latched onto her collarbone and Natasha forgot the laugh bubbling in her chest. For the moment, anyway. Wrapping her legs around his waist and hips got them as close as they could get while still dressed, and she ran her fingers through his hair while he kissed and nibbled a trail along her collarbone. He was so good to her. Always had been. She rolled her hips against him, more for his sake than for hers. While wearing jeans, the pressure was never more than vaguely pleasant. James’ breathing caught a little. She wound her legs firmer around him and did it again. And again.

“Impatient,” he grumbled against her collarbone, nudging the straps of her bra and top aside. “Won’t let me make dinner for you. Won’t let me take my time with you.”

This time the laughter spilled out of her. “Is that so,” she said, arching into his touch as she slid his hands up her sides to just under her breasts.

“Haven’t made you come in over four weeks. Ought to be a law against that sort of thing.” He stroked his thumbs over her nipples, rudely interrupting her laughter.

“Only if I get to reciprocate,” she said, then added, “Maybe make sure we don’t burn the building down first, though.”

“That’s my girl. Always thinking of others.”

“Idiot,” Natasha said affectionately, sliding off the counter and bending to pick up what turned out to be slices of carrot from the floor before throwing them away.

Efficient as ever, James had the half-prepared meal packed away in no time and he turned his attention back to her, discarding his latex gloves and apron as he closed in on her. Even doing mundane things, he was incredible to watch. All controlled movements and efficient grace. She got a glimpse of bare skin when he pulled off the apron, the shadow of his happy trail included. Then he was crowding her back against the counter, pushing her back with his hands on her hips, towering over her. Once he had her where he wanted her, he caught the bottom hem of her top and pulled it up.

She lifted her arms readily, but asked, “You want to do this here?”

He shrugged, throwing her top at the counter, and tracing the lines of her bra. “Eh, it’s not like this kitchen hasn’t seen its share of action.”

Natasha laughed. “You’re keeping count?” she said as if she hadn’t noticed it, too. That she hadn’t kept track for long enough to be certain that the kitchen came in as a close third to the bedroom and living room. Because apparently, having luxuries like soft surfaces was only somewhat important compared to the line of sight from the outside. She hadn’t bothered to tally up the countless hotel rooms and safehouses they had used before they moved in together, though. At least not the precise number.

“Don’t pretend like you’re not keeping count, too. I know you.” There was no accusation in his voice, only fond amusement.

She sighed theatrically. “Fine. Maybe that’s why we should move this to the bedroom.”

“Later. Wanna make you come first.” The intent, the uninhibited desire in James’ voice made her shiver. He used her distraction to unbutton her jeans and slip his fingers inside, cupping her mons, stroking sleek metal fingers over the fabric of her panties.

It took every ounce of Natasha’s willpower to keep herself from grinding against his hand.

He was grinning down at her, his eyes roaming over her face and body. She wanted to kiss him, bite his lush bottom lip, make him swallow the shallow breaths he drew from her. She wanted him breathless like her when he slipped his fingers under her panties. But if he was so intent on watching her, then who was she to deny him his pleasure?

“Thought you—thought you wanted to eat me out.” Her teasing words caught when he slid a finger on either side of her clit, rubbing up and down with agonizing slowness.

“Mm,” James agreed. “After. Can’t see you when you sit on my face.”

Natasha laughed again, broken this time by her gasps. Her legs weren’t all that steady either. She steadied herself with an arm on his shoulder and brought her free hand down between them, palming the bulge of his cock through his jeans.

“Nope,” he said and pulled his hand from her pants.

She protested, but he didn’t move away. Instead, he pulled down her jeans and panties an inch or two, then hoisted her off the floor with an arm around her waist, perching her on the edge of the kitchen counter. Then his hand was back between her legs again, two fingers sliding inside her easy as anything and his thumb finding her clit. Smooth metal and just the perfect amount of pressure.

“James,” she gasped. “Fuck.”

“That’s the general idea.” His voice was rough, breathless.

She clung to him, tracing the curve of his lips, the line of his cheekbone, and the arc of his brow. “You’re so good to me. Always spoiling me rotten.”

He bit his bottom lip, his expression caught somewhere between self-conscious and pleased. “Anything. Anything for you, Natalia.”

Wishes be damned, she needed James’ mouth on hers. Shifting her hand from his shoulder to the back of his neck, Natasha pulled his head to hers and kissed him. Greedily, hungrily, showing him just how needy he was making her, rocking her hips to meet his hand every time he pushed his fingers into her.

“Fuck, I—” she began, the tight coil in her gut rendering her speechless. Squirming with it, unable to form full sentences.

But he knew her, and he broke the kiss, pulled back so he could watch her. Never altering or breaking the rhythmic rocking of his hand.

Giving him what he wanted had always been easy.

For a second, the building pleasure became nearly unbearable, then came the release. Pleasure rolling over her, drowning her in warmth.

It took a few moments for the world to come back into focus, by that even the minute movements of his hand were too much. She caught his wrist in her hand, the metal body-warm, stilling him. Then snickered as he brought his hand up to his face and breathed in her scent. The show-off.

“Satisfied?” she asked.

“Not nearly.”

“Good.” Natasha slid off the counter and pulled him with her to the bedroom.

They removed their clothes as they went. Her jeans caused more problems than his, but finally were by the bed, and she pushed James backward onto it, crawling up his body, leaving kisses as she went.

She would never grow tired of looking at him. His brilliant smile that she only ever saw when they were home, the wide stretch of his shoulders and chest, heavy with muscles, his happy trail leading to, well. His cock bobbed eagerly when she straddled his lap and she rolled her hips, rubbing along the length of it. He hissed, so she did it again.

“I should make you come like this first. To even the score a little,” she said, tracing the scar that marked the border between the metal of his left arm and the rest of his body.

“You’d like that.”

“So would you.”

“You bet.” James grinned unabashedly, and she bent down to kiss it bigger.

She didn’t need to support her weight with her hands on his chest, but she did it anyway to feel the rush of air inside it. The rise and fall. Biting his bottom lip gently, Natasha rolled her hips in time with her breathing, slow and even. Swallowing at the groan that started as a deep rumble in his chest before it worked its way out and into her mouth. She kissed him breathless. Didn’t stop until every roll of her hips drew little gasps from him.

Sitting back up, she snaked a hand down to press his cock more firmly against her and he released a shuddering breath, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs. If she angled his cock like this, then the head rubbed against her clit—

His hands caught her hips, stopping her mid-roll. “I’m gonna make a mess out of myself.”

“You need a minute?” She grinned down at him.

“A moment. Or two.” He smiled in return, boyish and almost apologetic.

Natasha snickered, but shifted back a little, watching his cock twitch as if it missed her touch. “I should retire for a few months as Tony did. Fuck you morning, noon, and night. Put that Super Soldier Serum to good use,” she said contemplatively.

“Wouldn’t leave the apartment. Have groceries delivered.” His voice was rough and full of promises.

“What a life that would be.”

“Hmm.” His hands slid up her sides, cupped her breasts as if weighing them, then he brushed his thumbs over her nipples, sending twin jolts of pleasure down to the pit of her stomach. His eyes flickered between her face and her breasts, hooded but full of purpose. She squirmed a little when he did it again. James, eager as always, sat up, his mouth going to her breast as his arms wrapped around her. Kissing, sucking, setting her nerves on fire.

“That was a quick moment.” It came out of her a little broken. A lot breathless. She dug her fingers into his hair and tugged until he released her and leaned back.

Natasha didn’t need to say anything more, he could read her intent plainly. His arms fell away and he rested his hands on her thighs as she lifted herself off him and angled his cock so she could take him in. The slide was easy enough, the stretch to take all of him delicious. Thick and hot and all hers. Her sigh was echoed by one of his.

When she opened her eyes again, he was biting his bottom lip, a rapt expression on his face. She drew in a deep breath, tightening her muscles around him and relaxing them slowly again in time with her breathing. Enjoying the fullness inside her, the look of near desperation on James’ lovely features.

“Natalia, darlin’, you gotta move.” There was desperation in his voice, too.

Slowly, as slow as possible, Natasha lifted off him, letting him slide almost entirely out of her before pushing back down. Goosebumps started at the back of her head, then cascaded down along her spine. The slow drag was torturous, that she inflicted it on them herself didn’t make it any less delicious. His fingers curled and flexed on the side of her hips.

“When I asked you to move…” The muscle on his jaw bounced when he spoke.

“Maybe I needed a moment—” She lost the ability to speak when he twitched, pushing up into her.

“To torture me? ‘Cos, darlin’…”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She slid her hands down his chest, not-so-accidentally brushing his nipples on her way.

This time it was a full jerk, and his hands shook with the effort it took for him to not take over and control her speed.

“I love you,” Natasha said, smiling at the crease of concentration on his brow.

His expression softened. He reached up and cupped the back of her head, pulling her into a kiss. “Love you more.”

She rolled her hips against him instead of arguing, setting a more comfortable pace. Her pulse thudded in her ears, between her legs. The feeling of him inside her, his mismatched hands running up and down her back, his lips on hers, messy and demanding. The only sounds in the room were the slide of skin against skin, the harsh huffs of air.

His skin burned her where they touched, the air between them too hot to breathe in. She pushed herself up, one hand on the mattress beside his head, her hair hanging down as a curtain around them. Not that James looked to be doing any better. His lovely mouth hung open, his cheeks glowed red, and she was going to be sporting a myriad of tiny bruises from the way his finger dug into her hips. He met every roll of her hips by canting his up into her. Every minute jolt made the coil of pleasure building her gut wind up tighter.

All she needed—

He read her mind. Same as always. Planting his feet on the mattress, he began thrusting up into Natasha. She was breathless, gasped for air every time he pushed it out of her.

It didn’t take long after that. They were both wound up too tight for it to last long. She shifted her weight forward a bit, hands splayed on his chest and her hips held in place by his grip as he buried himself in her again and again. Then her orgasm hit her so hard it seemed the world fell away. She shook with it, her body shuddering. Inside her, under her, around her, James shook along with her. Her name spilling from his lips, his fingers digging into her.

He pulled her down onto him after they were done coming apart, her head tucked under his chin. Their bodies were sticky where they touched. She felt a little dizzy, her body light and bubbly.

Groping for his hand blindly, she found it and laced their fingers together to bring it up to kiss it. “Might actually need a moment to recover now.”

“Only a moment. I’m not done with you.” He sounded half-asleep but groped her ass with obvious intent.

Natasha snickered and tried in vain to ignore the spike of heat his words sparked in her. “How is it that I ended up living with the energizer bunny?”

“Because you need someone to keep up with you,” he said promptly.

“Hm, true,” she said. “That and the whole you being the love of my life thing.”

James hummed in agreement and stroked his free hand up and down her back, apparently not minding the sweat pooling in the dip of her spine. “Now be a doll and get up here and sit on my face so I can eat you out.”

Her laughter almost made it impossible for her to grant him his wish. Almost.

***

Natasha couldn’t _not_ buy the magazine when she saw it. It simply wasn’t an option. The headline stopped her dead in her tracks. Black _Widow’s Shocking Affair with Teacher!_ it read under a picture of Natasha. In a smaller font underneath the headline, it said: _Late-night romp, boozing & how they trashed a hotel suite!_ And over it in a bright yellow circle: _Maid’s tell-all interview_.

But worst of all, the very bottom read: _Inside: The man she’s hiding._

Her fingers shook a little when she opened the magazine to see if they had guessed right this time.

They were still shaking when she handed the blinking cashier the money for it and she covered the flurry of emotions inside by winking at him. Her normal, subdued makeup was a far cry from the bright red lipstick and fancy updo she had on the cover of the magazine, but there was no mistaking that it was her.

She couldn’t wait to see James’ reaction to the story.

-

He wasn’t home when she got to their apartment. It was still a few hours till she had to leave again for the charity dinner Pepper had all but strong-armed her into attending, but she had hoped to see James first. They had little down-time together with her schedule.

Maybe she should have texted him that she was coming home. Even if he wasn’t cleared for work that didn’t mean he didn’t have a life. It wasn’t like Natasha expected him to be home every time she dropped by.

An hour passed. Two. Then she had to start getting ready. She needed to shower and do her hair and makeup. The dress alone took some time getting into, most fancy dresses weren’t made to conceal weapons.

James still hadn’t returned by the time she left.

-

The charity dinner was as mind-numbingly boring as expected, but she smiled and pretended to be interested in whatever the famous and rich attendees had to say. It was work. It saved lives in ways beating up Hydra goons couldn’t. Besides, Natasha had survived worse.

She made it nearly two-and-a-half hours before she checked her phone for messages and found four waiting for her from James.

‘Barton???’ the first text message read. ‘Fucking Clinton Francis Barton?!!’ had come a second later. Then, ‘Hawkeye!’ followed by so many exclamations points they had taken up two lines. The fourth and final message had come a full six minutes after the first three and it read, ‘I will fucking show them who has been trashing hotel rooms during late-night romps with you.’

No messages after that and no calls.

Forty-seven minutes of radio silence.

Tapping his name brought up his profile and a tap on his phone number started a call, but it was disconnected by the second ring. She brought the phone down to stare at it and a message from him popped up. ‘On my way,’ it read.

Natasha didn’t know if she should laugh or begin to worry.

Movements by the entrance caught her attention. A figure weaving through the crowd with a familiar gait but unfamiliar clothes. James, with a clean-shaven face, freshly styled hair, and wearing a tuxedo that had to have been fitted to his form. No way he could find something that could fit his wide shoulders and narrow waist at the same time off the rack. She hadn’t even known he owned a tux.

He came to a halt a few paces from her, licking his lips, but greeting her the way he usually did when they were in public. “Hey, Romanoff.”

“Barnes,” she returned, not bothering to conceal her amusement. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Heard this dame I’ve had my eye on for a while was here tonight. Thought I might try ‘n find her,” he said, laying it on thick.

“Yeah? Any luck?”

“Well, you know me and luck. Haven’t seen eye to eye since… Since forever.”

The few heads that had turned to follow James’ approach had turned to something more interesting, and Natasha motioned for him to come closer so they could talk without an audience.

“Are you sure about this?”

He shrugged one shoulder, then shook his head, dragging his fingers through his hair. “God, I’m sick of all the stupid rumors they start about you. Makes you sound like you’ve slept with every guy you’ve ever looked at.”

“There is a solution to that, you know.”

He crooked an eyebrow at her. “Make Stark buy them all up and stop them from running more stories about you?”

Natasha snickered. “Okay, two solutions,” she amended. “Not caring is cheaper, though.”

“Maybe.” He inclined his head. “I know a third solution.”

“Yeah?”

He held out his hand to her, palm up and fingers curling ever so slightly. “Start a few of our own.”

“I like the way you think.” Taking his hand, she stepped closer and let him lead her to the dance floor where an orchestra played the kind of inoffensive music that rich people liked to listen to while they parted with their money.

There were only two other couples on the dance floor, too early in the evening for it to be full. Not enough booze consumed yet. She didn’t mind; she had enough dance training to blend in on any dance floor or make a show out of it if that was what she wanted. And James? James had rhythm, James had the kind of control over his movements most people could dream about, he could dip her and twirl her around and—

They danced a few dances, made a show out of it, and by the end, he caught her hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing her knuckles before releasing it. Then they went their separate ways and barely looked in the other’s direction till they were back home.

Rumors were fun, but secrets were better. Maybe sometime in the future, they would let the truth be known to more than a select few, but that was for tomorrow. Tonight, Natasha wanted to fall asleep in the arms of the man she loved. Nothing more, nothing less. Rumors be damned.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo, I decided to fill all three prompts instead of picking one. They were as follows:
> 
> 1\. Bucky and Natasha are very secretive about their relationship and that means the wildest rumors about them spread (ie about their kinks, that they're not actually dating, that it's a cover up (for Stucky?), their Red Room history, that they're in an open relationship, who's the 'dominant' one, ...) and it's part funny, part bewildering and actually way preferable over anyone knowing anything real about them  
> 2\. Ok I love the battle couple trope and the equal partnership BUT I'd really like Bucky, before he's cleared and ready for missions, playing the housewife for Nat who's stressed out, overworked and drops by for two hours on a Tuesday and Bucky does the laundry, cooks for her, generally happily pampers her as much as she will let him  
> 3\. Either them being extremely practiced at quickies or super soldier stamina. Just lean into the smut ;)


End file.
